


Kein Liebeslied

by paint_it_gray



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Oblivious Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-27 12:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paint_it_gray/pseuds/paint_it_gray
Summary: Roberto is in love with Philippe who is too oblivious to notice.Or; Five times Neymar (and Marcelo) tried getting them together and one time they didn't need any help at all.





	1. Airplanes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a stupid fluffy little project I wrote for the sole purpose of getting some sunshine into my life (but mostly for procrastinating on writing my long-term work in progress). And because I will go down with this ship but what's new?
> 
> Title credits go to Kraftklub.
> 
> Enjoy!  
\- MJ

It starts on the flight to Russia.

He’s polite enough to pretend not to notice but it’s all too obvious. Especially when Neymar pointedly pulls Marcelo down into the unoccupied seat next to him when Philippe walks past, or when he glares darkly at anyone merely trying to go near the back of the plane. It ends with Marcelo’s feet in the air and his head in Neymar’s lap, just so Phil won’t get the idea to sit down next to him.

Which only leaves one free place.

Next to Roberto.

He shakes his head with a soft smile on his lips. What are they trying to achieve?

“This seat taken?” he asks and Roberto looks up from his phone. He smiles, no, almost beams at him as he realizes it’s him and pats the empty spot next to him.

“Of course not,” he says, “I can have your snacks, then.”

To be fair, he’s missed Roberto during club seasons. Barca has been… good so far but it’s just not the same without him. Maybe he’s only magic with Bobby on the pitch with him or something. It makes zero sense but somehow, they have a way of understanding each other without words when they play alongside each other that’s hard to describe. But first and foremost, Roberto is a good friend to him, his best one perhaps. And even though he doesn’t like to admit it, he misses his company, too.

“Please never change, Bobby.” He shakes his head with a fond smile and falls into his seat.

“I’m not planning to,” he replies with a chuckle. “Did you bring your Nintendo?”

Phil smirks. He did not forget that. They used to spend their international games inflicted hotel stays with playing Nintendo deep into the middle of the night like it was a matter of life and death. Joined by Adam and Jordan from another room most times.

“Who do you think I am?” He lifts an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Roberto replies cheekily, “Maybe things are different down in Barcelona.”

“Yes, they ruin me,” he agrees jokingly.

“You do miss me though, right?”

His voice is soft and light, he’s just joking, but Phil still turns to look at him to find the truth behind his words, hidden in his eyes. He’s always been easy to read, for him at least, with the way he’s always worn his heart on his sleeve.

“You wish,” he scoffs.

Roberto leans in close and pokes his side. “Well, maybe someone should have stayed in Liverpool.”

“For?”

“I’m not saying we got to the UCL final, but-” He takes a long breath. “-we got to the UCL final.”

“Shut up,” he groans and pushes him away, covering his face with his hands. “I regret ever saying this out loud.”

Roberto laughs. “Too late.”

“Ugh, get a room,” Neymar complains as he stalks past with an overly dramatic eye roll.

Philippe almost chokes on his spit when Roberto replies: “This is an aeroplane. Find me one and I’ll take it.” He winks at Neymar with a cheeky grin on his lips.  
He has picked up on Adam’s banter, that’s for sure.

Neymar finds no good answer before Roberto stops paying attention and just like that, they’re asked to fasten their seatbelts and remain on their places until the plane has reached flight level.

“For your own safety, please keep your head, arms and legs inside the ride at all times,” Roberto mutters under his breath and Philippe snorts.

He doesn’t listen to much of the safety instructions, safe for the witty comments Roberto keeps adding in a hushed tone and he has tears in his eyes from trying not to laugh.

“Your face is taking on an interesting shade of red there,” Roberto whispers with a teasing tone to his voice, “Liverpool red, almost.”

“Shush.”

Roberto nudges him gently and smiles. It feels natural, comfortable, easy.

“Share your earphones?” he asks as soon as the safety instructions are over.

Phil shrugs. “Sure.”

He pulls them from his bag by their cord and untangles them for a solid two minutes before he plugs them into his phone and hands one earbud to Roberto.

“Thanks.”

He hands his phone over as well and sighs when Roberto gives him a pointed look of disbelief. “You choose,” he confirms.

Roberto takes the phone with a bit of reluctance as if he’s waiting for Phil to change his mind, and keeps glancing at him with narrowed eyes.

“Is your passcode still-” He falls silent when Phil kicks his shin and mouths a silent ‘Ow’ but the corners of his mouth are turning upwards into a Cheshire-cat-esque smile as if he had found out Phil’s deepest darkest secret.

“Yes.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest and turns away while Roberto scrolls through his Spotify account.

Again, he politely pretends not to notice the way Neymar keeps talking to Marcelo animatedly and his obvious gestures into their direction. He’s not being subtle, not at all.

“What’s his deal?” Roberto asks absent-mindedly and jerks his head towards Ney.

“No idea,” Phil lies with a lump in his throat.

Roberto doesn’t need to know that Neymar thinks Phil has a huge crush on him. There’s no need to make things awkward between them. Hells, Phil doesn’t even know where he got the idea from. He and Bobby are close, yes, but definitely not that close.

Besides, Roberto surely doesn’t like him as anything more than a friend.

Not that he’d feel that way either.

He leans his head against Bobby’s shoulder and closes his eyes as the melody of a song he doesn’t remember adding to his playlist fills his mind and renders the remainders of his consciousness blissfully empty.  
With the music in his ears and Roberto’s warmth against his side, he’s asleep within minutes.

While he dreams, there’s a voice that sounds a lot like Neymar, half yelling, half whispering: “You don’t understand, he never shares his headphones.”

And then, another voice, calmer and quieter says: “Let them sleep, Ney. Don’t wake them up. They look adorable.”

He’s not sure if it was a weird dream, or reality.

He frowns and snuggles closer to his pillow.

He won’t remember when he wakes up anyway. 


	2. Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neymar is stepping up his game and Phil is stepping up his denial.

He thought Ney had given up on his weird urge to see Roberto and Philippe close to each other after Phil told him to stop being ridiculous during training. Not only that he was humiliating himself, but he kept sending them meaningful looks - he prays to God Roberto didn’t notice - and made offhand comments now and then.

As it turns out, he was wrong.

A bit naïve, maybe.

He knows he’s late when he wanders down the hallway, hands in his pockets, on his way to the lounge where they’re supposed to meet for gaming night. He spent a fair bit of time staring at the ceiling and telling himself that it’d be fine if he got up in five minutes instead of right now, and listening to some music he hasn’t paid attention to in weeks. Yes, he might have been procrastinating because he’s not really up for social interaction at the moment. He’s been thinking too much. Neymar’s innuendos made him question every look Roberto sends him and he hates it. They’re supposed to be friends and just that.

He’s not supposed to search for the little glances Roberto sends his way across the room or the pitch when nobody else is looking - just because there might be something more to it. But there isn’t.

And he feels ashamed that he doesn’t get the thought out of his head anymore.

He can already hear their voices from meters away. He couldn’t miss the right room if he tried. It’s a deafening mix of music and screaming that fills the hallway.

He takes a deep breath before he opens the door.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Neymar screeches while Gabriel does something resembling a victory dance around him. “It was a banana peel! A banana peel!”

Marcelo is on the floor, crying with laughter. Phil is not sure he’s breathing properly. And there is Roberto, sitting in one of the armchairs and already looking at him with a soft smile like he noticed him the second he opened the door. He averts his eyes with burning cheeks and a tight feeling in his throat.

“There he is! Our little sunshine!” Neymar cheers as he spots him still hovering in the doorstep awkwardly, all anger is suddenly forgotten. Phil sends him a half-hearted attempt at a smile in return and leans against the doorframe. All eyes turn to him and he shuffles his feet around on the floor, feeling rather uncomfortable.

“Come have a seat!” he urges him and waves him inside. “We don’t have any more space here but you can share with Roberto.”

Phil contemplates just stepping out on the patio to sit down on one of the pieces of furniture there out of spite and pettiness only. It might be dark outside by now but Phil is not an idiot and he can see the outlines of the armchairs and even one couch someone must have carried out there quite clearly. It’s probably not worth it. If he wasn’t so annoyed, he’d be impressed by the effort they’re willing to put into this.

“It’s fine, I’ll just sit on the floor.” He shrugs and is about to find a quiet corner for himself.

There’s a momentary silence that falls over the room for a heartbeat and he pretends not to see how all of them take varying long glances at Roberto.

Yet, Neymar has different plans. “No, no, no, you can’t play from back there,” he says and grabs his wrists to pull him along, towards Roberto.

“Why don’t you go sit in Thiago’s lap then?” he mutters under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He takes the Wii remote Thiago offers him and sits down, more on the armrest than in Roberto’s lap. It is a bit complicated but he knows that he won’t be able to look Bobby in the eyes tomorrow when he just sits in his lap like he’s his damn girlfriend.

He almost flinches when Roberto’s warm hand comes to rest on his back. He leans in closer and lowers his voice. “Listen, Phil, if you feel uncomfortable with-”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts in a clipped tone, pointedly not looking at his friend.

Roberto sighs and leans back into his chair again.

Philippe’s heart drops into his gut.

He plays a few rounds of Mario Kart with the others, beating Neymar a couple of times - who is terrible at this - and consequently losing to Marcelo - who was apparently born to win Mario Kart. He’s starting to loosen up a little while the evening progresses. Enough that he sits in Roberto’s lap now instead of the armrest, which is a lot more comfortable, all things considered. He even drinks Bobby’s ginger ale - who doesn’t complain about it.

“Hey, Roberto, take my remote, I’m going to bed,” Thiago says and throws the remote to Roberto, only narrowly avoiding Phil’s head in the way. But Roberto catches it with ease.

“Thanks.”

It’s only Neymar, Marcelo, Roberto and him playing now. Gabi and Willian have limited their stay to being spectators after a particularly cold defeat against Marcelo. Neymar, on the other hand, seems to have no dignity left and continues anyway.

“That okay?” Roberto whispers only for him to hear as he sneaks his arms around his waist to be able to hold the remote correctly. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“If you can play like that,” he teases but he leans against Roberto’s chest a little more to make sure that he knows that this is okay. What’s important is that they’re winning against Marcelo.

“Afraid you’ll lose?” Roberto shoots back. Philippe can hear his smirk.

“Against you?” He snorts. “Never.”

“We’ll see about that.” The countdown starts and he’s fucking ready to beat Roberto, no matter what.

Turns out, they’re better playing with than against each other. They’re ruthlessly teaming up against Marcelo and Neymar - who are trying to do the same but are less coordinated - sending all blue, red and green shells they have their way and they keep winning race after race.

“Hell yes!” Roberto yells in triumph as he crosses the finish line first, directly followed by Philippe.

“You’re cheating!” Marcelo complains and throws his hands into the air, almost forgetting that he is still in third place and has a race to finish.

“We’re strategically superior,” Roberto corrects and gives Phil a low five.

Marcelo shakes his head. “I demand a rematch.”

“Without me,” Phil interrupts, “I’m tired.”

“Do you want to go to bed?” Roberto asks immediately but he shakes his head.

“You can keep playing, just give the remote to Gabi or Willian.” As he glances around the room, he decides to ignore the now empty armchairs and couches because- Because Roberto is comfortable and warm and he doesn’t want to stand up. He lets his eyes fall shut and if he nestles a bit closer to Bobby, it’s only because he’s cold and because it hides his blush better.

And nobody needs to know.

When he opens his eyes again, he needs a moment to realize where he is. It’s quiet and a bit darker than he remembers but he’s still warm and comfortable; he feels safe.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Roberto chuckles and nudges him gently. “Or rather good night.”

Philippe almost shrieks at the sound of his voice before he realizes that he’s still lying in Roberto’s arms - which is embarrassing as hell - and they’re still in the makeshift gaming lounge. Alone.

“Where did everyone go?” he asks, still blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“To bed? It’s almost 2 AM, Phil.” He chuckles again. “You were asleep for a bit.”

He’s about ready to dig his own grave when he realizes that he kept Roberto up all this time and that he fell asleep in his lap. Neymar will never let him live this down. He jumps to his feet and feels the blood rushing to his face. “God, I am so, so, sorry! Why didn’t you wake me?”

“It was fine.” Roberto stands up slowly and furrows his brows. He extends a hand to put on his shoulder, to calm him down maybe, but Phil can’t, he just can’t and he takes a step backwards.

“I’m sorry! The other guys will never let me hear the end of it, oh God. I am so, so, so sorry, Bobby. I just-” He runs a hand through his hair and looks around, trying to find a way to escape.

“It’s really fine, I-”

“I promise something like this won’t happen again. I am so stupid. I-” He looks left and right and left again, not daring to meet Roberto’s eyes.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles and dashes out of the room with a bright red face and a racing heart.

“I didn’t mind,” Roberto mutters quietly. But he doesn’t hear it anymore.


	3. Old Fashioned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil channels his true destiny - being a fashion designer and style icon.

At this point, he’s not even surprised that Marcelo and Neymar ditched them the second Roberto and he let them out of their sight. He saw it coming when Ney asked, no, begged him to tag along. And as soon as he realized that ‘us’ included Roberto as well, he could do the math on his own. He should take serious offence to the level of stupid they apparently believe him to be.

“Hey, Phil! How do I look?”

He turns around and sees Roberto pulling back the curtain of the changing stall and turning for him.

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Absolutely ridiculous, mate. It’s terrible.”

There are so many flaws, he’s not sure which one to criticize first. Maybe he should tell him that rosé is not his colour and that the dress shirt is too small to be oversized, yet too wide to fit. Or that this white leather vest is hideous. What possessed him to think it was a good choice is absolutely beyond him. And don’t get him started on his choice in pants.

“I’d comment on the ‘mate’ but I’m a bit offended.” He sounds insulted but he’s smiling.

“I should be offended by your fashion sense,” Phil shoots back. And as he already turns away and surveys the boutique he adds: “Just give me a couple of minutes, I’ll fix this.”

“Excuse me?” Roberto complains but Phil pays him no mind.

He’s already occupied with looking at the different clothing items. He finds an army green shirt that he likes and a light denim jacket, some black jeans and a pair of sneakers that he’s definitely going to buy if Roberto doesn’t.

“Can I help you, Sir?”

He’s almost too focused on the yellow sweater in his hands and staring at it to figure out if it would look good on Roberto or not, to notice the shop assistant approaching him and asking. He lifts his head in surprise and smiles.

“Thank you but I think I’m good,” he replies and nods politely.

She walks away and disappears to another side of the store. It must be a bit boring with the two of them the only ones present.

He returns to Roberto with three different looks for his friend that he put together spontaneously. He’s 95 per cent sure they’ll look fantastic on him.

“Take this,” he orders and hands him the first outfit, “and thank me later.”

“I can’t believe this.” Roberto sighs from behind the curtain. “My authority all gone.”

“Your authority never existed,” he counters. “And now shush and get dressed.”

He’s scrolling through Instagram without taking much notice of the pictures he sees before he takes another glance at the closed curtain and the clock on the wall.

“So?” he asks, a smug smile on his lips.

“I hate this,” Roberto mutters. He sounds like he’s pouting.

He doesn’t dare to imagine how adorable that would be.

“Why?”

Roberto exhales in a long sigh. “Because everything looks really, really good and I hate that you were right.”

Phil chuckles but tries not to let Roberto hear. “Let me see, then.”

“Fine.”

He pulls back the curtain.

Phil almost chokes on his spit.

It’s not new to him that he considers Roberto attractive but he looks sinfully hot in those clothes. He struggles to find words that won’t sound like he’s a fanatic homo but it’s harder than he expects it to be.

He clears his throat. “Now that’s a lot better.” He nods with approval. “Turn.”

Roberto spins around for him with a goofy grin on his face and Philippe seizes the opportunity to eye his body from head to toe. He’s satisfied with his choices but if he’s honest, that’s the last thing he’s paying attention to. Roberto’s eyes are mesmerizing in a way he cannot explain so he just stares as Roberto stops turning.

He looks right back at him, still grinning like mad, and lets his gaze wander across his body without shame.

The smile he returns is shy and unsteady while his throat suddenly feels dry.

“Phil-”

“You have a really good eye for fashion, Sir,” the shop assistant tells him as she passes by and looks at Roberto’s outfit.

He exhales with relief and tears his gaze away from Bobby’s.

“Thank you, but I think that only applies when it comes to him and his clothes.” He smiles at her and runs his fingers through his hair, still feeling nervous and fidgety when he thinks of the look Roberto and he shared. It sends shivers down his spine.

He wonders what he was about to say.

She chuckles at his words and nervous habits and shrugs. “Better help him dress well than nobody.”

“My clothes are still better than yours,” Roberto pouts, demanding back his attention, and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Philippe turns back to him and lifts his eyebrows. “Your fashion sense is a menace to society.”

His pout really is adorable.

“Okay, now I’m seriously offended.” He huffs out a breath and shakes his head.

“But you’re buying this?” he asks smugly.

“Definitely.”

Philippe smiles in triumph.

After they leave the shop, Roberto with three new outfits and Philippe with a lot more ego, Roberto takes him to get ice cream. The coaching staff wouldn’t be pleased to hear about it but Philippe agrees with the decision nonetheless.

“What flavour do you want?” Roberto asks and rips him from his thoughts.

“Hmm…” He peeks at the list of different ice cream flavours. “Chocolate and Stracciatella.”

Roberto blinks once, twice, and says: “I’m not even sure how to pronounce that but your wish is my command.”

He dashes off before Philippe can teach him how to and he stares after him with wonder. Is their behaviour a bit couple-y? Is Neymar not just trying to annoy him but is he actually seeing something in the way they behave around each other?

But what the heck is he thinking? Roberto is just getting him ice cream, for crying out loud.

He needs his mind to shut up.

“Your majesty.” Roberto hands him his ice cream with a little bow.

“Thank you.” He grins and does a little bow himself.

Roberto wraps an arm around his shoulders loosely and drags him along towards a little park that seems mostly unoccupied. If Roberto notices that he stiffens up under his touch and that his heart starts beating uncomfortably fast against his ribcage, he doesn’t mention it.

They find a spot under an old large tree that provides cool shade and they sit down next to each other, leaning against the tree.

They share their time in comfortable silence. Philippe lets Roberto try his ice cream when he asks and agrees to try his in return. He has to agree that vanilla and blueberry make a pretty good combination.

“Philippe?” Roberto asks suddenly.

He looks up from his ice cream. “Huh?”

“Can I say something?”

Roberto takes a glance at him with an unsure look in his eyes, a seriousness he’s not used to from him.

He frowns slightly and tilts his head. “Shoot.”

Philippe almost flinches when Roberto puts his hand right above his knee when he starts talking. He tenses under the touch.

“I didn’t want to bring this up again because you looked so uncomfortable that night but I wanted you to know that I honestly didn’t mind when you fell asleep. I- You don’t-” He struggles for words. “I would’ve said something if it had bothered me, okay?”

Phil bites his lip and chews on it for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“I promise,” Roberto confirms softly while his thumb is drawing little shapes on his knee.

He shivers.

“Okay, fine. It’s still embarrassing though.” He doesn’t dare to look at Roberto and stares at his inked hand on his leg like it’s hypnotizing.

“It isn’t,” Roberto insists and gives his thigh a little squeeze. “You could do it again and I still wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, I get it.” He feels hot under his clothes and resists the urge to pick at his shirt. Carefully, he moves his legs away from Roberto’s touch. “Can we talk about something else now?”

“Sure,” Roberto says, his voice layered with a hint of defeat.

He thinks he can hear him sigh quietly.

“And eat your ice cream, it’s melting.”

Roberto then turns back to his ice cream and eats it without another word, completely lost in thought, his mind somewhere else entirely.

He only then realizes their shoulders are touching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I not thinking about chapter titles and putting my playlist on shuffle instead? Possibly.


	4. Sincerity Is Scary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's consider it a double date.  
Among friends, of course.

When Marcelo asks them to get dinner together with him and Neymar the next day, he half expects them to do their disappearing act again. Scratch that, he’s convinced and prepared to end up in that burger restaurant with Roberto alone. The thought leaves an odd feeling in his gut. Again, going out for dinner alone has a romantic touch to it.

But it’s not Roberto who asked him to go.

And he doesn’t want to date him.

Much to his surprise, Neymar and Marcelo seem to have no intentions of leaving even after ordering their food and drinks. They have brought up no obvious feigned excuse to ditch them. (Yet, he still suspects that they made sure Roberto and he are seated next to each other on purpose.) Marcelo is sitting opposite Roberto and they’re animatedly talking about Vincent Van Gogh and Claude Monet if he heard that correctly but he is not about to judge.

Ney’s and his conversation has been sparse, to say the least. Philippe keeps playing with the salt and pepper on the table instead. He pushes them around and against each other because he has nothing else to do and he can’t look at Neymar out of sheer awkwardness.

“Listen, Phil, I’m sorry,” he says all of a sudden.

Philippe’s head jerks up to see if Marcelo or Roberto heard, but they’re too endorsed in their conversation.

“About what?” he asks and narrows his eyes.

Neymar shoots him an unimpressed look. “Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about.”

Phil doesn’t reply.

“Anyway, I’m sorry I overstepped your boundaries and I’ll stop sticking my nose into your personal business, okay?” he adds and sends him a pointed look.

“Good,” Phil agrees and nods.

“I’m just saying make up your mind.”

Phil doesn’t think there’s anything to make up his mind about but he nods slowly anyway.

Before he can say anything else, their food arrives and they all pay more attention to that than their teammates. They thank their waiter politely and start eating their different burgers, falling into silence over their delicious food. He doesn’t think he’s ever eaten a burger that good. That’s probably because they’re just the right amount of unhealthy but he decides to push that nagging feeling of guilt very far away. He’s just going to work harder during training tomorrow.

“I can announce with all honesty that I’d gladly die for these burgers,” Neymar declares with his mouth still half full.

Marcelo and Phil share an unimpressed look across the table as Marcelo replies: “Glad to hear that.”

“Guess we’ll have to come here more often then,” Roberto teases and Phil almost spits out his drink in Neymar’s face.

Marcelo starts laughing and is close to choking on his beer while Neymar pats his back, perhaps a bit rougher than necessary.

“Rude,” he says, sounding offended and shakes his head at Roberto but smirks only a second later.

“Please save comments like that for when I don’t have soda in my mouth,” Phil mutters and takes a deep breath.

“Noted and taken into consideration,” his best friend replies and grins at him with that smile that could light up an entire room. Or a whole house. Or the world.

He can feel his cheeks heating up and he prays that nobody can see it.

While his mind is occupied with locking cheesy thoughts like that into a dark empty corner of his mind, Marcelo, Neymar and Roberto have started a discussion about whose burger looks - and probably tastes - the best and if normal chips or sweet potato chips are a better option.

“Damn, Phil, yours looks very good,” Roberto says as soon as he wolfs down a large bite without chewing on it much, “It’s vegetarian, right?”

Phil turns to him with a reserved smile, masking his slight disgust at his eating habits. Marcelo chuckles; he seems to understand perfectly what Phil is thinking. “It is and I know it looks good.”

Neymar hides his quiet snort behind his napkin as he eyes them with curiosity. He knows that Phil is a bit possessive when it comes to his food. He fondly remembers the time Ney almost threw a fit about Phil not sharing his sweet potato chips with him. There is a line he draws, especially for Neymar who doesn’t like sweet potatoes anyway.

“Can I try?” he asks and Phil is pretty sure Ney is holding his breath as if he’s witnessing a historic moment.

Phil contemplates it for a moment and barely narrows his eyes before he shrugs and says: “Sure.”

He cuts a piece of his burger and holds the fork for Roberto who smiles at him and takes the bite.

The service clatters when Neymar drops his fork onto his plate and sends a couple of fries flying across the table. “Sorry, sorry, I’m a bit clumsy,” he mutters and gathers the food.

But Phil is still focusing on Roberto who is chewing on his bite and seems to think about it. “Is it good?”

Roberto swallows and sends him a content smile. “Really good.”

“Do you want some more?” he offers, “I won’t eat all of this anyway.”

Roberto grins softly. “Yes, please.”

He doesn’t even notice the wide-eyed look Marcelo and Neymar share and the phrases ‘Do you see that?’ and ‘You think I’m blind?’ they’re mouthing to each other.

He pushes his plate towards Roberto and lets him have the rest of his burger while he picks the sweet potato chips off the plate. He needs those for himself.

Yet, he doesn’t say anything when Roberto steals one for himself and only shakes his head softly.

The leave the restaurant two hours later as it’s about to close after they promised the owner they’d be back. They stumble out onto the sidewalk laughing, maybe they’re a bit tipsy. Roberto has thrown his arm around his shoulders and holds onto Marcelo with his other hand while Neymar stumbles along on Marcelo’s other side, the defender’s arm slung around his waist to steady him.

“I can’t believe you’d actually tell him that!” Ney huffs out between his fits of laughter.

Marcelo shrugs with a smug smile. “Yeah, I mean, he’s just a human being like you and me, buddy.”

“You literally told the José Mourinho that he should ‘loosen up and learn to chill’, mate,” Roberto laughs and nudges him, “I don’t think that’s something you just do.”

“Well, I did,” Marcelo replies with nonchalance.

Phil chuckles to himself at the mental image of Marcelo walking up to Mourinho and telling him out of the blue, without any context that he needs to chill as they turn a corner and walk down a small alley deserted of people.

He lifts his head when he feels somebody’s eyes on him only to see Roberto staring at him in a way he doesn’t comprehend. Philippe looks back, drawn in by Roberto’s mesmerizing eyes, while his chuckles slowly fade into silence.

“What is it?” he asks quietly and forgets the world around them for a few heartbeats. It’s like he’s standing in a void, with time and space just passing by him. For a second, he feels infinite.

Roberto opens his mouth but no words come out. Phil waits patiently. Before he can say anything, Marcelo’s voice turns his real surroundings back on.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” he says and takes his leave with a small nod, dragging a complaining Neymar along with him.

“What was that all about?” he asks in wonder as he looks at their retreating forms and turns back to Roberto.

“I-” Roberto’s voice breaks and he shifts his feet around on the floor, eyes fixed on his toes.

“Yes?”

Roberto takes his hand in his own and raises his head. Philippe is too surprised to react; he keeps staring into his eyes and wonders how many emotions Bobby can see passing through his irises at the speed of light before he can grasp them and put them into words. He doesn’t dare to breathe too deeply when Roberto runs his thumb along his skin.

His hand is warm.

“I need to tell you something, Philippe,” he finally gets past his lips and lowers his eyes to look at their joined hands.

Phil’s heart stutters and he’s waiting for something that he can’t name.

At that moment, the ringtone of Roberto’s phone rips through the silence.

Roberto lets go of his hand to reach for his phone in his pocket. “Oh, for crying out loud… Yes?!” He listens for a moment. “Yes, we’re coming back. Already on our way… Yes. …Yes, Thiago, just tell him to chill! Jesus Christ.” He runs his fingers through his hair and tugs on the strands he has a good grip on in frustration.

Then he puts his phone away and starts walking, waving him along. “Come on, we’re expected back at the hotel.”

Phil stands frozen in place for a couple of breaths, alternating between staring at his hand hanging loosely at his side and Roberto stalking away with hunched shoulders and his head hanging low. He doesn’t understand.

Then he jogs after Roberto so he won’t leave without him. He falls into step beside him and smiles at him, hoping that Roberto will notice and smile back - but he doesn’t.

“What did you want to tell me?” he tries with a light voice and lets his fingers brush against Roberto’s as if on accident.

But Roberto pulls his hands away and puts them into his pockets. He doesn’t spare Phil a glance and stares onward with his jaw set and biting on his cheek.

“Nothing.”

Philippe doesn’t understand what he did wrong.


	5. Black Butterflies and Déjà-Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-enacting High School Musical 3's iconic "Can I Have This Dance" but with more angst

This time, Neymar and Marcelo (and all the others who are most likely in on this) are not even at fault. A bit, perhaps since they pushed all the furniture aside and declared it a dancefloor. And Thiago, because he chose the music and opened a ballroom dancing competition. Alisson too, because he’s responsible for their average level of alcohol in their blood and therefore, getting Thiago in a position for ideas like that. In a way, they’re all at fault.

But they’re not the ones who walk up to him, a soft smile with a hint of mischief on their lips, while he’s sitting alone at the bar, brooding with a drink in hand, and ask him to dance.

That is Roberto’s fault alone.

“Hey, Phil.”

The voice rips him from his thoughts and he flinches. He takes a deep breath and loosens his grip around his glass before he turns around.

“Hey,” he replies and looks past his shoulder instead of his face. He can’t see Roberto and not think of last night. Of the words he said that he can’t forget, no matter what he tries.

“May I have this dance?” Roberto asks overly formal and extends a hand to him. He grins brightly and does a little bow.

Phil stares at his hand, glances at his eyes, lets his eyes drop back to the hand.

His hand.

That’s what started everything.

He glances at Roberto who looks slightly concerned and starts to lower his hand again.

“Fine,” he replies and puts his hand into Roberto’s. He lets him pull him from his barstool to his feet and onto the makeshift dancefloor. Marcelo and Neymar are dancing what he thinks is supposed to be a waltz but it’s hard to distinguish.

Roberto’s fingers curl around his hand gently and his other hand comes to rest below his shoulder blade.

His hands are warm.

Phil is a bit surprised how easily Roberto moves to the music, how almost artistic his movements are. He leads him through the room with ease, Phil doesn’t have to do anything. He can barely glance at the way Roberto smiles down on him with that something in his eyes he now recognizes.

“I need to apologize for yesterday,” he says and spins him around, “It wasn’t fair to you how I reacted.”

Phil swallows heavily.

He’s heard that before.

_He’s staring at the blank wall, counting seconds. _

_The look in his eyes is distant, empty. Like he’s looking through the wall. _

_His mind is somewhere else. _

_And his back turned towards Roberto. _

_He wants to fall asleep rather than listening to the sound of Roberto’s steady breaths and occasional sighs which is both calming and infuriating. It’s like an itch beneath his skin that gets worse every time he scratches. It doesn’t help his mind racing non-stop, jumping from one thought to another, barely giving him enough time to realize what he’s thinking about. _

_They all have one thing in common - they circle around the person lying right next to him._

_And he still doesn’t understand. His thoughts don’t provide him with the answers he needs - or wants to hear. He ends up more confused than he was before every time. _

_“Phil?” Roberto whispers suddenly. “Are you still awake?”_

_His eyes are wide open, his heart is beating hard against his ribcage, his blood is suddenly spiked with adrenaline - but he doesn’t move. Maybe he should, if just to tell Roberto he doesn’t want to talk, but he does nothing, steadies his breath and keeps staring at the blank wall in front of his eyes. _

_He can hear the disappointed long sigh from Roberto’s lips. _

_Then, he can feel it before his fingertips graze his shirt and the skin beneath - and he shivers. He can see the picture they paint, Roberto’s hand extended over the space between them, his fingers unfolding carefully like he is to touch something fragile. His fingers dance along his spine, up and down his back like he’s learning him anew. Philippe forces himself to stay perfectly still as a cool shiver runs down his spine. He almost forgets to breathe in again. _

_“I’m sorry about the way I reacted earlier,” Roberto whispers into the silence, “Wasn’t fair.”_

_Phil wishes he’d remove his fingers from his skin. He closes his eyes and tries to will himself to fall asleep, tries to think of anything else but his touch and his voice and his breath. _

_Yet, he finds himself listening to every word, savouring every touch, echoing every breath. _

_“I think something wants to keep me from telling you how I feel,” he mutters while his fingertips wander down the bare skin of his arm. _

_Phil is frozen in place, unable to move. _

_“But you’re not listening, are you?” Roberto continues. _

_He swallows heavily and considers telling him that he is awake. His voice sounds small, quiet as if he’s about to say something private, almost secretive. _

_“You never do.” Roberto sighs. “I’ve tried telling you so many times and you never listen.”_

_He could pretend he just woke up. _

_Anything. _

_“Te amo, Phil,” he whispers, “that shouldn’t be so hard to say.”_

_He forgets how to breathe. _

_Te amo, te amo, te amo_ echoes in his mind when he looks at Roberto now and he wonders how he could be blind enough to oversee. Maybe he was too close to notice the obvious. That Roberto sees more than just a friend in him.

“Phil, are you listening?”

His eyes come back to focus on Roberto and he smiles sheepishly. “No.”

Roberto rolls his eyes in return and shakes his head. “How is that possible? Do you ever listen?”

That sounds so familiar too.

_Te amo, te amo, te amo_, his mind sings.

“Sometimes?” Phil tries.

Roberto just laughs and spins him around again.

Over his shoulder, he can see Neymar still dancing with Marcelo and giving him a thumbs up. He sticks out his tongue at him.

They’re dancing tango now.

Of all things.

He’d bet good money on Thiago being responsible for that.

And he’s so close to Roberto, close enough that he can feel his breath on his face but it feels right somehow. He feels safe. Warm. Comfortable.

He shouldn’t.

“You know, I try to tell you my deepest secrets and you just space out,” he complains and shakes his head. “What a friend you are.”

_Te amo, te amo, te amo. _

He feels hot all of a sudden.

“As I was saying I have something you need to know-”

He stops listening.

The room is too loud.

All eyes are on him. Staring. Judging. They morph into faces of his past, judging. Nameless faces, staring. Unknown voices whispering with venomous tongues.

He knows he’s not supposed to touch Roberto like that, he knows.

He’s sorry.

He is not like that.

Roberto's touch on him is searing hot, burning his skin like fire.

The room is spinning.

“Phil, are you okay?”

He can’t breathe.

“Phil, look at me! What’s wrong?”

He needs an escape.

He needs to leave.

Needs to breathe.

“Phil-”

“Don’t touch me!” He pushes him away as forceful as possible.

He watches him stumble and fall.

He stands. Stares.

His chest is rising and falling heavily.

Roberto looks at him and he doesn’t understand. He’s confused. Hurt.

The room is silent.

And he runs.

“Phil, wait!”

But he needs to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that even a valid chapter summary? It hardly qualifies as one.  
Let me know what you think in the comments or leave a kudos <3


	6. Spread Your Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil has no idea what he's doing but things turn out alright somehow.

He doesn’t know when he stops running, or how long he has been running for.

But now he’s standing by the sea, staring at waves tinted in nightly black rolling towards the shore. He watches them break, hears them crash against the pier and the stones, he can smell the salty air.

It’s calming. Grounding. Disenchanting.

Another wave comes crashing against the shore and he breathes in.

It’s the wind in his hair and the drops of spume on his face that cool down the fire beneath his skin and wash Roberto’s touch off him.

He closes his eyes and listens to the ocean.

_Te amo_, his mind whispers charmingly, drenched in venom, and he ignores it.

His fingers close around the railing and he grits his teeth; he decides to pretend his eyes aren’t filled with tears he doesn’t want to spill. He thinks about the way Roberto looked at him when he was on the floor; he was barely moving, only staring at him in shock. With so much hurt in his eyes that it still pierces his heart when he recalls it now.

The next breath he expels from his lungs is wavering.

He opens his eyes and his gaze wanders above the water, towards the flickering lights in the distance, fighting against the shadow of the night. They seem so far away and with every second he stares they get further out of reach without moving.

He can’t do this anymore. He has played along with Ney’s and Marcelo’s antics for the longest part and he is through with it; he can’t continue this any longer.

Not when Roberto has feelings for him.

Not when he-

_Te amo. _

Not when he looks at him like that.

And Phil, he thinks he’s been returning those stares for far too long, longer than he should have, long enough, that Roberto’s mind started painting its own story along the colour of his eyes.

But he is not in love with Roberto.

He cannot be.

The realization of the thought is sobering. Maybe, no, likely, he was about to catch feelings for him. Definitely, he was about to get attached. He likes the way Roberto looks, adores the way he stares at him, loves the way he smiles.

And maybe, just maybe, that means he has been in love with Roberto all along but that is messy and flawed and complicated.

When he remembers that he’s not supposed to, not allowed to be in love with him, that’s easy. There’s nothing to misread, nothing to interpret along a clearly drawn line. It’s wrong. That’s what his parents think, what he’s been taught to believe in; that’s what everyone thinks.

There’s no room for grey colours when it comes to that.

“Phil?!”

His shoulders fall and he sinks in on himself when he hears his voice, along the fast-paced footsteps.

He wishes he could render himself physically invisible.

“Phil!”

He can hear him halt for a moment before he hears his steps on the pavements, slowly approaching him. Roberto is still breathing heavily when he stops next to him and with careful hesitation, puts a hand on his shoulder.

Phil flinches.

“You need to stop running so fast,” he murmurs, his tone almost shy, “I thought I lost you.”

Gracefully, he takes a step sideways, out from under Roberto’s flaming touch. “I didn’t ask you to follow, did I?” he replies sharply.

“Oh.”

Roberto backs off a little but he stays. From the corner of his eye, he sees how he puts his hands into his pockets and shuffles his feet nervously. Phil can feel his eyes on him with the same intensity of his touch and he pulls his jacket over his hands.

“Are you going to leave?” he asks and lifts his head for his gaze to get lost in the distance.

“No?”

“Fine,” he huffs out.

He turns to leave but Roberto catches his arm and holds him back.

He closes his eyes and catches his lip between his teeth.

“Let go.”

“Tell me what is wrong with you and I will.” His voice sounds pleading, it makes him think he’s about to go down on his knees and beg if that’s what it takes.

His heart breaks a little.

He struggles against Roberto’s grip and tries to get his arm free. The more he pulls, the more Roberto’s fingers around his wrist tighten until it hurts but he doesn’t let go of him.

He grits his teeth as he stands perfectly still. “Let. Go. Of. Me.”

His back and his shoulders are tense, his feet a steps width apart and his toes curls in his shoes like he could get a better hold on the ground beneath him.

“Why did you run away? Why push me away?” Roberto presses with a desperate edge to his tone. “What did I do?”

_Te amo._

“I said: Let. Go!” he spits out, his voice dangerously low.

“Just tell me!” His grip only grows tighter and the tears springing to his eyes are a mess of pain and heartbreak.

“You’re hurting me,” he chokes out.

“Phil, please!”

He tries so damn hard to tug his hand free and run away again because that is so much easier. But suddenly, Roberto is in front of him and holding onto his arms just below his shoulders and he tries, tries, tries to push him away when he comes closer. His chest feels small and tight, he’s scared when Roberto pulls him closer, despite his fists drumming against his ribcage.

Only when his forehead is resting against Roberto’s collarbone, his body suddenly fails him and he stands frozen in place. He doesn’t dare to breathe while he can hear Roberto’s breath and feel his heartbeat underneath his curled fists.

He only realizes that he’s crying soundlessly when Roberto’s hold on him grows gentler when he runs his fingers through his hair on the nape of his neck and shushes him quietly.

For a moment, he relishes the sweet embrace and the comfort but he feels too trapped in his arms all too soon.

“Please let go of me and I’ll tell you anything,” he whispers, “Just please…”

Without saying anything, Roberto’s hold on him loosens and he slips out of his warm embrace; he takes a few small and careful steps until he has the space to breathe and slumps against the railing again, putting so much weight onto it that he doesn’t think he’s standing much himself anymore.

“Just help me understand,” Roberto mutters, “Because I really, really don’t.”

He draws in a painful breath. “I heard what you said last night.”

The only sounds remaining are the crashing waves and the wind above them.

He stares and finds no more lights far over the water.

“I wanted to say something but I couldn’t,” he whispers. “And then you said- You said-”

_Te amo._

“You said you were… fond of me.” He winces at his choice of words, draws his jacket tighter around his shoulders like a blanket. “But I can’t- I-” He takes a trembling breath. “It’s wrong and I can’t, I shouldn’t- What you ask of me is something I can’t give you.”

Roberto inhales deeply like he wants to say something, but then he exhales again and stays quiet.

He lets his eyes fall shut and bites his cheek while his hands wrap around the railing like it’s a lifeline he’s clinging to.

“Wait, are you- Do you have a problem with gay people, Phil?” Roberto asks, both disbelieving and tired. “Because if you do, I should leave.”

“No, I don’t, I- I don’t care, it’s just…” He lets his voice trail off, caught in the wind and turns his head.

“It’s what, Phil?” Roberto asks gently.

“It’s just wrong on me.” He shudders as he hears the words out loud and knows that he cannot take them back anymore.

When Roberto reaches out to touch him this time, he feels like porcelain, cracked and so close to shattering. He rests his hand on his shoulder with its warm and grounding weight.

“But if it’s okay on anybody else, sunshine, why not on you?” He runs his thumb along his collarbone.

Phil doesn’t think he has an answer to that.

He sighs. “…I don’t know. But I shouldn’t. It’s not right.”

He avoids looking at Roberto when he reaches for his hands and takes them into his, patiently loosening his grip around the railing little by little. He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to face Roberto but he knows that it’s too late to run away now.

Phil stares at Roberto’s shoes, his cheeks burning.

Roberto’s voice is soft when he speaks up again, quiet and understanding. “Is that what you think or what the surroundings you grew up in told you to think?”

“I don’t know, Bobby.” He lifts his head and meets Roberto’s eyes. He was planning to say something entirely different but he gets caught in the colour of his eyes and the words just tumble from his mouth. “The only thing I know is that I care about you. I care about you very, very much, and I know that-”

“Can I kiss you?”

Phil’s eyes go wide at his words. His throat feels dry, he doesn’t know what to say.

But then Roberto lifts his hand and lets his fingers trace the shape of his cheekbone while Phil’s eyes fall shut at the tentative touch.

“Okay,” he whispers.

His eyes stay shut.

Then, he feels Roberto’s breath on his face and his hand on his cheek. He feels his skin tingle with anticipation and his heart beating wildly in his chest.

What is he doing?

But then Roberto is kissing him and it renders his mind blank; it ignites the fireworks in his chest and makes his heart soar. His lips are soft, moving against his with gentle caution and Phil answers with a little more boldness and assurance. He tilts his head and loops his arms around Roberto’s neck as his hands wander down to Phil’s hips.

A feeling of safety spreads through his body. It almost feels like home.

When Roberto pulls away, he stays so close that their foreheads touch while his fingers are drawing tiny shapes on his waist. “Tell me,” he breathes, “Does that feel wrong?”

He gives a small shake of the head and whispers “No.” with an almost bashful smile on his lips.

Roberto smiles back at him and steals another quick kiss off his lips. “That’s good to know.”

_Te amo_. He thinks he gets it now.

They spend another twenty minutes by the sea, exchanging sweet, innocent pecks and kisses that he enjoys all too much and Roberto takes notices. He kisses his forehead then, just to see him smile and that feels wonderful.

He doesn’t understand what made it so hard for him to see, to accept that they have been dancing around each other for quite some time now, longer than even Neymar is aware of and he thinks back to a couple of little moments they used to share back in Liverpool and feelings he forced himself to forget, to ignore, to push them so deep down that nobody would ever see.

“Hey, Phil?” Roberto hugs him from behind and rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“Go on a date with me,” he says, “A real one. No Neymar or Marcelo, no pretence, no weird masterplans.”

Phil chuckles. “Is that Italian place we used to go to still there?” he asks instead of an answer.

“The one with the fancy lights and the perfect Old Fashioned?” Phil smiles when Roberto immediately knows what he’s talking about. “Sure.”

“Sounds like, a plan, doesn’t it?” he replies.

Roberto pulls him closer, tight against his chest and buries his face in the crook of his neck before he lets go of him entirely. “Great.”

The night is getting colder, a bit chilly and he shivers enough for Roberto to notice.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

He shrugs. “A bit. It’s fine.”

“Let’s go back now, okay?” He holds out his hand for Phil to take.

He looks at it, marvelling at how natural it feels. He’s not going to lie and pretend that the nagging voices of his parents are suddenly gone just because he got a kiss. But he has these feelings for Roberto that he cannot deny and at least right now, today, they’re stronger than what he’s been taught to think.

When Roberto starts to look worried, Phil takes his hand and intertwines their fingers.

_Te amo. _

_Te amo._

_Te amo._

Yes, he understands it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure how satisfied I am with this ending, but at least I have an ending.  
Maybe leave a comment and let me know what you liked and didn't like about the story? I'd appreciate that.  
Thanks for reading this little side project of mine, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
